Broken
by TamJaspie
Summary: Basically just a Tam one-shot about a night when Sam can't sleep. Won't say anything more as I don't want to give the plot away, apart from the fact that it may be distressing (as mentions suicide and self-harm).


**A/N So, this was going to be my get-back-into-writing-one-shot but I've already done another one so... Well, I'll just post this anyway and see what you think. :-) This isn't related to any of my other FanFics but I wanted to see if people would think this idea could work, so, yeah, please read! This is from Sam POV. :-)**

**Also, the cat mentioned in this is the cat on the cover. :-) **

I'd laid down in bed next to Tom over an hour ago, but I couldn't sleep. My mind was spinning with thoughts, and I just couldn't clear my head.

I rolled over for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, and closed my eyes, trying to get to sleep. No such luck. Within seconds my eyes had opened again, looking around the room. I rolled back over to face Tom and sighed.

I looked at Tom, my boyfriend, sleeping peacefully. For a moment I wished he would wake up and hold me, like he always did. But then again that's all I'd ever wanted: someone to hold me when I was upset, and tell me that everything was OK.

I felt tears in my eyes and wiped them away furiously. Why did I always have to get sad for no reason?! This had happened all the time when I was a teenager: one moment I'd be fine, the next curling into a tight ball, tears streaming down my cheeks.

More tears began to roll down my cheeks, and I dug my fingernails into my hand to stop myself from going into full on sobbing mode. Why tonight? Why did I have to get upset tonight? Suddenly I clicked: it was April 11th, the day all of this had started.

I sat up, unable to take it anymore. I pulled the curtain back and stared out at the stars, remembering how they'd always calmed me.

"Can't you sleep?" I nearly jumped out of my skin as I heard a voice. I turned and saw Tom looking at me in concern.

I merely shook my head before turning back to the window.

Tom knelt next to me, taking my hand and rubbing it gently. "What's going on inside your head?"

"A lot," I said simply.

"Like what?" Tom asked softly.

I just shook my head, not wanting to talk about it.

"Sam, please..." Tom began.

"Just go back to sleep," I said tiredly. "I'll be fine."

"I'm not having you go into work having not slept the night," said Tom. "You'll get ill."

"I've managed plenty of times before," I said, still staring out of the window.

I then froze. Had I just told Tom I hadn't slept in the past? I quickly looked at him, checking his face that I could see clearly in the moonlight.

"Why?" asked Tom.

I quickly shook my head, looking down to the floor. "I can't tell you."

"Can't, or don't want to?" asked Tom gently.

"I can't say it, even if I wanted to, but I'm not sure I'm ready to tell you," I admitted.

"Please tell me you've told someone," said Tom.

I nodded. "But it never really helped, and in the end people thought I was just making a fuss. Not that anyone really cared anyway, especially not my parents..."

I trailed off. Why did I keep giving things away, letting out my secrets?

"Did your parents do something to you?" asked Tom.

I nodded.

"Can you tell me what it was?" asked Tom.

I shook my head.

"Should I try and guess?" asked Tom.

I shook my head. "No, because you won't guess it, and everyone just thinks it's stupid, and no one's guessed it before, so I always have to tell people, but I can't say it, and..."

"Sam, stop, it's alright," said Tom, pulling me into a hug. I began to sob, and I clung to Tom tightly as he hugged me.

"Can I try and guess anyway?" asked Tom.

I gave a slight nod.

"OK," said Tom. "Were you abused? Did anyone hurt you in any way?"

I shook my head.

"Did you have an eating disorder or anything like that?" asked Tom.

I shook my head again.

"Mental health issue?" asked Tom.

I shook my head again. "See, you can't guess it, because it's pathetic! I don't even know why I got so upset about it, but I did and then there was no way out of it!"

"What letter does it begin with?" asked Tom.

I stayed silent, shaking my head slightly.

Tom sighed. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

I pulled out of the hug. "Maybe I don't want help."

Tom looked me in the eye, studying my face carefully. "You do, Sam, I can see in your eyes that that's the one thing you really want, really _need_."

I sighed: Tom could read me like a book. "All I want, all I've ever wanted since this started was for someone who knew what was happening to hold me, and tell me that everything was going to be alright, because they'd be there for me..." I trailed off. "Pathetic I know, but..."

"Tell me what's happened and I'll be that person," said Tom. "Just let me in."

I looked at him nervously. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Tom nodded. "I don't care how horrible it is, I just want you to tell me," he said. "All I want to do is help."

I gave him a weak smile, before I looked down at my lap. "I, I, I..." I trailed off. "I can't say it."

Tom rummaged through his bedside drawer, before he handed me a notepad and pen. "Write it down."

I took the pad and pen, and put the pen onto the top sheet of paper, but couldn't bring myself to write anything.

"Just write it," I whispered to myself. "It's not that hard."

I held the pen on the paper for a few minutes, but I couldn't actually write anything.

"Sam?" Tom asked as he saw the page was still blank.

I put the pen and notepad down on the bed, before I sighed. "I can't do it."

"Why not?" Tom asked.

"I don't know," I said. I lay on the bed, curled up into a ball, and began to sob, remembering how I used to deal with this by myself, and not have anyone there, how sometimes, my breathing would then speed up, how I'd be alone with no one else noticing...

I felt Tom wrap his arms around me and curl his body around mine as I cried. "Breathe, Sam, just breathe."

"I am breathing!" I shouted. "I'm fine, OK, I'm breathing perfectly well!"

Tom looked a bit shocked, but kept his grip on me all the same.

"I've had twenty already," I mumbled. "I'm not having another one."

"Another what?" asked Tom confusedly.

"What happens when you can't breathe, what happened to you when that baby almost died..." I trailed off, knowing Tom would now know what I was on about.

"Panic attack?" Tom asked softly. I nodded. "Twenty, by yourself?"

I nodded. "A lot of them were for things I never did as well, so I could never do anything to put it right," I said. "And it was scary."

Tom rubbed his hand up and down my back. "I know, I know it's scary, I've had them as well."

"On your own, being unable to breathe, unable to speak, not knowing what you did wrong, not knowing why your body's doing what it's doing, knowing what's happening, knowing you can't tell your parents because they're the ones who blamed you for the thing you didn't do and so don't care, hiding it for three months, not telling anybody, having two exams, real GCSE exams before telling anybody, then when you do tell someone having another one on the night you told..." I trailed off. "Do you want me to go? Obviously you doing want a wreck of a girlfriend like me..." I began to put my stuff in my bag, intending on going back to my flat for the night, as I was staying at Tom's overnight.

Tom got up and gently grabbed my wrist. "Sam, you can't go home now, it's late, you're tired." He opened his arms. "Do you want that hug?"

I shook my head. "I need to tell you more, but, I'll go home first, then you can get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning." I packed my last thing, and then went to walk out of the door, before I stopped. "Tom?"

"Yeah?" replied Tom.

"Can I..." I trailed off as Tom nodded and opened his arms, and ran straight into them. He hugged me tight, rubbing my back as tears rolled down my face.

"Shh," Tom soothed. "Shhhh."

I began to relax, feeling safe in Tom's arms. "Can I stay then?"

Tom kissed the top of my head. "Of course you can." He looked down at me. "Do you want to tell me everything now, or in the morning?

"Now," I said firmly. I pulled back from the hug. "I'm not really sure why, but they kept happening, even when I didn't do anything. It was the summer holidays, and I, I had, I had six in the space of six weeks. I was so scared as I couldn't get away from home, and I couldn't do anything about it, apart from just sit in fear, waiting for the next one..."

Tom took my hand, squeezing it gently. "Keep going, you're doing really well."

"When I went back to school, after the summer, I talked to someone about it, but they kept happening. I started to break down a little bit actually, always scared about the next one, fearful of going home..." I trailed off. "But I had to go home, every night, and face my family. My stupid family that hurt me that I hate!"

"Didn't you have any friends you could stay with?" asked Tom.

"Me, friends? Yeah right!" I said sadly. "I was always a bit of a lone wolf at school, so I never really had any close friends, there was no one I could stay with."

"So you just had to put up with it?" asked Tom.

I nodded. "They kept happening, and I was scared about every holiday that came up. I didn't eat sometimes, I couldn't sleep very well at some points, and..." I trailed off, looking at Tom nervously. "Tom, if I tell you things, will you leave me?"

"Of course not," said Tom. "And I won't tell anybody either, don't worry."

"Even if they're really bad?" I asked.

"Sam, I'm not leaving you, not now, not ever," said Tom. "Come here, you."

He pulled me onto his lap and I curled up small, enjoying the security of Tom's arms around my body.

"What happened?" asked Tom. "You were about to say something."

"I, I thought about, I thought about su, s-s-suicide," I said. "I didn't want to be here anymore."

I felt Tom freeze, and my body froze also. "Tom? What's wrong?"

Tom didn't reply.

"Tom?" I asked again. When he didn't reply I began to slip out of his arms, but he held me tight.

"I'm not letting you go, I'm not letting them hurt you again," he said. "No one deserves that, Sam, and you have so much to live for."

I nodded, tears rolling down my cheeks. "I know."

"I'm not ever letting you go ever again," said Tom, holding my close.

"Even if I need the toilet?" I joked. I moved on Tom's lap, and realised I had a full bladder. "Tom, can you let me go to the loo?"

Tom nodded, and I slipped out of his arms and went into the en-suite, closing the door behind me.

* * *

><p>When I came back, Tom had moved the duvet so he was no longer sitting on it, but it was wrapped round his shoulders. I gave a small laugh.<p>

"What, it's warm!" Tom protested.

I climbed onto the bed and onto Tom's lap. He wrapped his arms around me, as well as the duvet.

"Thank you," I smiled.

"For what?" asked Tom.

"This hug," I said. "You have no idea how good it makes me feel."

Tom smiled. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"I, I did a bit of self-harm as well, just scratching with my nails, but that's mainly because I couldn't find a blade..." I trailed off.

"How did it get that bad?" asked Tom.

"I don't know," I said. "One day I was fine, then next everything just came crashing down, and I haven't been properly happy since."

"When did it start?" asked Tom.

"Tuesday 11th April 2000," I said.

"It's the 11th April today," Tom said softly. "Is that why you're so upset tonight?"

"I think so," I said.

"Do you want to tell me anything else?" asked Tom.

I suddenly gripped Tom tightly.

"Sam?" he asked, confused.

"I, I, I..." I trailed off. Was I'm really going to tell Tom, a doctor, that I went into hospital and people thought I was wasting resources? Not a smart move. But then again, I wanted to tell Tom everything, so maybe I had to.

Suddenly, I whacked my head against Tom's chest.

"Ow!" Tom laughed, shocked. He then looked at me. "Hey, are you alright?"

I shook my head. "I once ended up in hospital because I refused to eat."

"Why?" asked Tom.

"I wanted a break, I couldn't take it anymore, so I didn't eat, knowing I'd go into hospital, and then I'd get away from them." I sighed. "I really am pathetic, aren't I?"

"No, you're not pathetic," said Tom. "You were put in a situation and you didn't cope with it that well. Having said that though, you kept it to yourself a long time, so you didn't cope that badly."

"Everyone at the time seemed to think I was just making a fuss," I said. "The mental health people told my mum that I just needed to eat, and that was nothing wrong, even though I was so scared, so upset..." I trailed off. "They got me an appointment with them anyway, but nothing really happened and I was just sent home again. I even told my parents what was wrong eventually, even though they already knew about the first two, and my mum just said, word for word "Well we've already sorted that out, so just eat, as there's no point doing yourself harm over something that's not relevant", when it was the fact that I'd had another one that started all of it off!"

Suddenly Tom got up, and I felt so scared and alone. He walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he was silent.

"Tom?" I called out hesitantly. "Tom?"

I got off the bed and went to the kitchen, and what I saw shocked me. Tom was sitting at the table, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Sam?" he asked as he saw me enter.

"Why are you crying?" I asked.

"Why didn't they care about you?" he asked. "If someone had have done that to me, my parents would have been there every step of the way, not just have emotionally abandoned me."

I felt tears prick in my own eyes, and tried to hide them. "Why couldn't I have had your parents?"

Tom gave me a warm smile. "Because you have me."

His arms wrapped around my body and lifted me up, just as if I was a small child. I rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me back into the bedroom, and then he gently laid me down on the bed.

"No, please!" I said, panicked, as Tom put the cover over me and then didn't get into bed.

"Sam, I'll be right back, I promise," said Tom. I watched as he took something from the en-suite cupboard, and then went into the kitchen with it. I heard the microwave go, and then Tom came back, putting something against my chest before he got into bed.

I relaxed when I realised Tom had warmed up my lavender cat that I'd had since I was quite little. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Tom. "Turn and face me."

I turned over. "What?"

"Do you want that hug now?" asked Tom. I nodded, and Tom pulled me towards him. I curled up into a ball, and Tom curled up around me, supporting my body as I began to sob.

"Shhhhhh," Tom soothed. "I'm here, it's alright, I'm never going to leave you, I'm going to help you through all of this, you'll be OK."

Tom held me close, and pushed the lavender cat onto my chest, sending warmth through me. Eventually I stopped sobbing, and I looked up at Tom.

"Sam, don't say thank you," said Tom.

"Why?" I asked confusedly.

"Because you're a very special person, and that's the least you deserve," said Tom. "Plus, I like cuddling up to you: I want to be able to make someone in the world feel safe and loved."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You've succeeded," I said. "Every time you pull me into your arms, I feel safe, like nothing could ever hurt me, and, I love you."

"I love you too," said Tom, kissing my forehead gently. "Do you think you can go to sleep now?"

"I don't know," I replied truthfully.

"Do you want to try?" asked Tom. I nodded. "Get comfy, and I'll work around you."

I turned over, then back again, then back over, then back one last time, before Tom grabbed me gently.

"Don't do that," said Tom. "Stay here but curl up or stretch out, it doesn't matter."

I curled up, and Tom curled up around me. I then straightened my legs, then curled up, then straightened, before turning over and sitting up.

"Sam?" asked Tom.

I shook my head. "I can't get comfy."

Tom looked at the clock: 1:34am.

"Do you want me to go to sleep first and you join me when you're ready?" asked Tom.

I shook my head, climbing onto the bedroom window seat, the lavender cat still on my chest.

"What're you looking at?" asked Tom.

"Stars," I said quietly.

"Why?" asked Tom.

"Because they're perfect, not like me," I said. "I'm just weak, pathetic and broken."

"You're not..." Tom began.

"I am, alright?!" I shouted. "I'm scared of panic attacks, I must be broken!"

Tom lifted me off the window seat and onto the bed, holding me close.

"You, are not, broken," said Tom. "You're so strong, nothing stands in your way..."

"It's a front!" I shouted. "It's all a front! I make myself look strong because I have to pretend I'm coping, even though inside I'm broken!"

Suddenly all my energy vanished, and I dissolved into tears.

"I'm sorry," I hiccuped. "I'm so, so sorry."

Tom took my hand, smiling at me gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said. "This isn't your fault, you're just having a hard time at the moment."

I nodded, taking in what he'd said. "This used to happen a lot."

"What did?" asked Tom, confused.

"Me not sleeping," I replied. "It wasn't unusual at one point for me to go to sleep at 4:30 in the morning having gone to bed at 9:00."

"You should sleep now though," said Tom. Suddenly he paused. "I know!"

"What?" I asked, confused.

Tom lay on his back on the bed, then patted his stomach. "Come on, on you get."

I shook my head. "No, I'm too heavy, I'll squash you."

"Sam, you weigh practically nothing, and you'll keep me warm." He patted his stomach again. "Come on."

I carefully climbed on top of him, before I turned over, then turned back, turned over, turned back, over, back, over, back, and then off Tom and onto the floor.

"Ow," I said as I landed. "I thought the bed was this side."

"Come here, you," said Tom. He gently lifted me off the floor and onto the bed, before pulling me into a hug.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked gently.

"My back," I replied, rubbing my hand where I'd banged my back.

Tom took the lavender cat from where it had fallen on the bed and held it against my back. "Better?"

I nodded, the warmth radiating through me. "Yeah, thanks."

"Why can't you get comfy?" asked Tom.

"I don't know," I replied. "I just can't."

"Is there any way I could help you get to sleep?" asked Tom. "Give you a massage, make you a hot drink, get you some food, hug you until you fall asleep, anything like that?"

"I'll go and get some food, actually: I'm hungry," I said. I went to get out of bed but Tom stopped me.

"Tell me what you want and I'll get it," said Tom.

"No, I will, it's not..." I began.

"Tell me and I'll get it," Tom repeated.

I sighed. "Just one of those snack bar things we have, the fruit ones."

"OK," said Tom. He went into the kitchen and came back with a packet. "One fruit snack bar thing."

I smiled, before I began to eat it. Tom wrapped his arm around me.

"You any more tired?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Do you want to try sleeping by yourself?" Tom asked. "I can sleep on the sofa."

I shook my head.

"What do you want to do then?" asked Tom.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Do you want me to try and get you to sleep?" asked Tom.

I nodded.

"Lie on your front," said Tom.

I lay on my front, resting my head on my folded arms.

Tom then began to massage my shoulders and back, melting away the tension in my muscles. I groaned slightly.

"Is that better?" asked Tom. I nodded.

"I'll carry on then," he said.

Tom carried on the massage, but then I suddenly wanted to turn over. I rolled onto my side, then my front, then back, then my other side, then my first side again, then my back, then my other side, then my front, then started turning onto alternate sides, curling up smaller every time, desperately trying to get comfy.

"Hey," Tom said as he grabbed hold of my body. "You don't want this, do you?"

I shook my head. "I just want to get comfy and go to sleep."

"I know you do," said Tom. "Do you want a drink?"

I shook my head. "I'll be going to the loo all night."

Tom nodded. "Would smelling the lavender in your cat help?"

I shook my head again. "I've tried that before, it doesn't work."

"Do you want to do something to tire you out?" asked Tom.

"Like what?" asked Sam.

"Reading, playing on your phone..." began Tom.

"Won't that wake me up?" I asked.

"On low brightness you should be OK," said Tom. "Plus, it's not going to wake you up that much now, as if you can't sleep at this time your body's already woken itself up and prepared itself to go without sleep, so you'll be fine."

"Can I use the tablet?" I asked.

"Of course you can," said Tom. He got the tablet off the stand and handed it to me. I turned it on, typed in the code, and then went onto the games page.

"What should I play?" I asked.

"What about smash hit?" suggested Tom. It's not too bright, and you don't need massively quick reactions.

"OK," I said. I scrolled through until I got to smash hit, and then pressed play...

* * *

><p>An hour later I was still playing.<p>

"Are you any more tired?" Tom asked. I shook my head.

"Can I have a drink please?" I asked.

"Of course you can," said Tom, getting off the bed. "What do you want?"

"Can I have a hot chocolate please?" I asked.

Tom smiled. "I'll just go and get it."

I smiled as Tom went into the kitchen, thinking how lucky I was to have him. He cared about me, really cared about me, and I always felt safe and happy around him.

"Sam?" said Tom, bringing me out of my thoughts. He was standing there holding a mug of hot chocolate for me.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about things," I said, taking the mug and taking a sip. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Tom. He then sat down on the bed and put his arm around my shoulders. "What were you thinking about?"

I looked to the floor, embarrassed. "How lucky I am to have you," I admitted shyly.

"I'm lucky to have you as well," said Tom.

"What, a broken person like me?" I asked.

"Sam, you are not, and I mean _not_ broken, OK?" said Tom.

"I am!" I shouted, putting the hot chocolate down on the table. "I am broken!"

"You're not!" Tom shouted back.

"I am, I am, I...!" I trailed off as I felt my breathing began to speed up, but I just managed to keep it under control. "See what I mean? I'm broken."

"You're not, Sam," said Tom gently. "You're just upset, as anyone would be today if they'd been through the same thing as you."

I nodded. "I just want to be able to cope."

Tom took my hand. "Hey, you are coping," he said gently. "I know if I was in your position I wouldn't be coping as well as you are."

I shook my head. "I shouldn't get this upset over some panic attacks, no one else cares about them when they have them."

"But it wasn't just the panic attack was it?" said Tom. "You didn't tell anyone, and so were constantly thinking about it, whilst you had exams on, and you didn't even know what you'd done wrong to make you deserve to be shouted at."

"How do you know all that?" I asked, slightly in shock.

"You told me some, and I worked the rest out," said Tom. "I know you better than you think, Sam."

"I know," I said.

Tom looked at me, obviously wondering how to ask the question. "Sam, what actually happened?"

I sighed. "Do you want the whole story?"

Tom nodded.

I took a deep breath. "Well..."

* * *

><p><em>"Just go to bed!" Mum shouted.<em>

_"Fine, but it was your fault!" I yelled, running up the stairs._

_Me and Mum had been arguing a bit that evening, so I decided it would be best to get ready for bed as quickly and quietly as possible, and hopefully it would be forgotten about in the morning._

_I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and then went into my bedroom. I sighed as I took my cardigan off, hearing Mum and Dad yelling at each other._

_Suddenly my bedroom door banged open, and Dad stormed into my room._

_"Why are you slamming doors and stamping your feet?!" he yelled at me._

_"I didn't," I said in a small voice._

_"You did!" yelled Dad. "Slamming doors and stamping your feet, just stop!"_

_"I didn't do anything," I said, again in a small voice._

_"Just go to bed!" shouted Dad. "Goodnight!"_

_And with that he left the room, pulling the door almost shut behind him._

_I picked up a mirror that I'd made at school the other day and hadn't got round to putting away yet, to go and put it in the corner, so I could hang it up when there was a hook on the wall. I felt my breathing go funny, and as I got to the corner of my room, I put my hand to the wall and half knelt, half fell to the floor. My breathing then sped up dramatically, and as I put the mirror down, I brought my other hand up to my chest, feeling my heart thumping hard and fast._

_"I..." I said, before I had to breathe out again._

I didn't do anything wrong,_ I thought to myself._

_"I..." I tried to say the sentence out loud, to make it real, but I couldn't as the air was forced into my lungs again._

I didn't slam doors or stamp my feet,_ I thought to myself, still struggling to breathe._

_Various thoughts were running through my head. I knew what was happening, as I'd seen people on the TV in dramas not being able to breathe properly, and they were told they were having a panic attack. I used that to help calm my brain down a little bit, as I now knew what was happening to me, and so didn't need to start worrying about that. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about my breathing, which wasn't slowing down, and didn't look like it was going to soon either._

_It carried on like this for a few minutes more, before my breathing finally began to slow. I felts tears come to my eyes as I came to a realisation of what had happened, and tried to keep my breaths deep._

_Unfortunately, my breathing then began to speed up again, and I gasped for air, fear running through my body once again. A minute or so later though, it slowed down to the right speed again, and tears began to make their way down my cheeks._

_"I didn't do anything wrong," I said to myself._

_I got up and quickly changed into my pyjamas, before I got into bed. I then grabbed my Simba toy from where he sat (as I didn't sleep with a soft toy anymore) and cuddled him close under the duvet as tears rolled down my face. I lay like this for a while before I cried myself to sleep..._

* * *

><p>"So you didn't actually do anything wrong?" Tom asked.<p>

"No," I said. "I argued a bit with Mum, but I never did anything that Dad said I did."

"And then you didn't tell anyone?" Tom asked gently.

I shook my head.

"Why not?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I replied truthfully. "I just, I didn't think they'd care, which I did prove right on a number of occasions afterwards, and I didn't want anyone else I told to tell them, so I just kept quiet."

"It didn't do you any good not telling anyone though did it?" asked Tom softly.

I shook my head. "I remember when I finally did tell someone, my head of year at school, it was, it just, it made me feel so happy, and, and calm, and, it was, it was really nice." I felt tears come to my eyes as I remembered that day, a day I would remember forever.

Tom smiled. "Did he help you then?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he was really nice, and he understood," I explained. "He understood me completely."

"Like me then?" Tom joked.

I nodded, completely serious. "Yes, like you," I said. "You understand me so much, make me so happy, I just, I don't know how to repay you."

"You being my girlfriend is enough," Tom stated. "Every morning I get to wake up to your beautiful face, and I think to myself, 'I'm so lucky she's mine'."

Tom then reached up and gently brushed my cheek. I shivered, but in a good way.

"Tom?" I asked, hesitating as to whether I should ask the question.

"Yeah?" said Tom.

I took a deep breath. "Do you, do you hate me for what happened and for what I did?"

Tom looked at me in shock. "How could I hate you for that?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, you just might."

Tom answered my statement with a kiss to the forehead. "No, I don't," he said. "I could never hate you, not now, not ever."

"Never?" I repeated, shocked. "Even if I did something wrong?"

"Like what?" asked Tom.

"Like..." I trailed off, trying to think of a good example. "Like wasting NHS resources when I didn't eat and..."

"You did that as a last resort Sam!" said Tom. "You were trying to make you parents realise something was wrong so you could get help! I'm not angry with you for that, definitely not."

"Everyone else was," I mumbled.

"Well they shouldn't have been," said Tom. "There's no reason to be angry with you."

I smiled, a tear rolling down my cheek. "Thank you."

Tom didn't reply, instead pulling me into a hug. "I won't let anyone hurt you again," he whispered. "I won't let anyone do anything."

I felt more tears running down my cheeks as I wished I could have had this years ago. I buried my head in Tom's chest as I began to sob.

"Shh," soothed Tom. "Shhhh."

I pushed my face further into Tom's chest, trying to make it seem like I was calming down so he wouldn't worry.

Tom held me tighter, realising what I was doing. "It's OK, Sam, it's OK."

"It's not," I mumbled.

"What do you mean?" asked Tom.

"I can't, I can't do this anymore," I said.

"Sam, you can do this," said Tom.

I shook my head.

"You can," said Tom.

"How?" I asked. "No one ever told me how to cope, I just had to work it out for myself."

"Let me help you," said Tom.

I shook my head. "If the professionals I went to couldn't help me how will you be able to?"

"Because I studied psychology and was a psychiatrist for two years," said Tom.

I looked at him in confusion. "You've never mentioned that before."

"I've never had the chance," said Tom. "But it does mean I can help you a lot more than you thought."

"OK," I said, not really knowing what to say next.

"Why do you feel you can't do it anymore?" Tom asked softly.

"I feel like this every year," I began. "Just, remembering everything."

"You didn't last year," Tom stated.

"No, but I did something else last year didn't I?" I said, remembering what had happened exactly a year ago.

Tom looked at me, puzzled, before he worked it out. "You got drunk, at that party."

I nodded. "I didn't want the pain, didn't want to have to explain all that when we'd only been going out a few weeks, so I got drunk instead."

"Oh Sam," said Tom, squeezing my hand. "Why do you never just open up?"

"Because I can't," I said. "I'm scared people will think I'm weak, that I was just making a fuss, as that's what everyone thought at the time."

"You're not weak," said Tom. "You are strong, so, so strong. I just wish you'd let me in more."

I nodded. "I will."

Tom smiled at me. "Good."

I smiled back weakly, before looking to my lap. "I wish I could get to sleep."

Tom looked at the clock. "You're only going to get two and a half hours sleep now anyway, which would probably make you more tired."

It was 3:28am.

"Urgh!" I said, punching the mattress. "I'm tired, why can't I just get to sleep?!"

"Because you're upset," Tom said simply. "You won't be able to sleep when you're feeling like this."

I sighed. "I just want to be happy."

"I want you to be happy too," said Tom. "I hate seeing you upset: it breaks my heart."

"What?" I asked, hoping I'd heard it right.

"Seeing you upset makes me feel horrible," said Tom. "My heart breaks every time I see you cry."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because, well, I love you," said Tom. "I've never loved anyone in my life like I've loved you."

"I love you too," I said, my voice breaking. _Don't cry, Sam, don't cry, Sam, don't cry, Sam..._

Too late. A hot, salty tear rolled down my cheek, but before I reached up to it Tom wiped it away, his thumb gentle against my soft skin.

"Please don't cry," Tom pleaded.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to," I said. I tried to stop the tears but it was no use. A second tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another, and another, before I began to sob. Tom wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close as I let out all the hurt and fear I'd been feeling for the past fourteen years. I could feel Tom stroking my hair, which calmed me, showing he was there for me, ready to comfort me when I needed it.

"Shhhhhh," said Tom soothingly. "It's OK, there's nothing happening anymore."

He continued to soothe and comfort me as I cried, probably realising that I needed to let all my emotions out. I just sat there, clinging to him, feeling safe in his arms, as I remembered everything that had happened. I cried as I remembered the panic attacks, and how much they had scared me. I cried as I remembered months of feeling unhappy, unable to enjoy myself properly. I cried as I remembered the first night I'd thought about suicide, and how I didn't want the thoughts but couldn't do anything to stop them. I cried as I remembered the nail scratching self-harm that I'd done, as a way to let out all my hurt. I cried as I remembered when I didn't eat and ended up in hospital. I just continued to cry, crying and remembering, safe in Tom's arms.

"Can I do anything to help?" asked Tom. His voice had a helpless tone to it, showing he was a bit clueless as to what to do.

"Just hold me," I sobbed. "Please."

Tom tightened his grip on me and began to rub my back. "OK, I'm not going anywhere, just take all the time you need."

I continued to cry for a few minutes, and then pulled out of Tom's arms.

"Thank you," I said.

"I just want to make you feel safe," said Tom. "It makes me happy when I make you happy."

I smiled, before I felt my eyes begin to close. I felt Tom scoop me up and place me on his chest, before he lay down, his arms wrapped around my body.

"Sleep well," he said, stroking my hair. "You deserve it."

I smiled to myself as I lay there, before I fell asleep, Tom's warm, safe arms still wrapped around me...

**A/N Hope you liked it! Please R&R! :-D **


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